


If Fate Can't Decide

by candlelight27



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love at First Sight, Multi, Neighbors, Polyamory, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, perhaps smut yet to decide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:35:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14221305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlelight27/pseuds/candlelight27
Summary: Steve has already an unrequited love to take care of, Bucky, why does fate give him another one? And it had to be you.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back here with this fic I've been planning. I've been quite obsessed with Cap for a while now, so I had to try. Don't get your hopes too up, I'm struggling with life right now. At least writing makes it all better, isn't it? Well, read, tell me if there are any mistakes, and hopefully enjoy this little piece :D Disclaimer: I don't own any character nor anything, just the little romantic plot going on here.  
> By the way I got a new tumblr: @novumlibellumscribo and will post this story I guess sooner or later

Steve was going home under the rain with hurried steps, Bucky’s umbrella in his hand. It was way too big for him, and it had way too many ribs broken. The cuff of his trousers as well as his shoes were soaked. He was as quick as he could, fearing catching yet another illness, as it usually happened in the colder months of Brooklyn.

His mind was wandering on its own. Bucky had involved him once again in one of his double dates, then had sent him home to get ready. Steve was feeling conflicted. Every time he was with Bucky he felt happy, yet seeing him with a girl, trying to enchant her, he felt jealousy. He knew desiring his friend was in vain, however, he wished he placed an arm on his waist and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. He sighed, trying to direct his thoughts into more positive ones. Perhaps his date that night would be a nice girl who didn’t run away from him into his best friend’s arms. Perhaps it would be someone he could fall in love with, as much as he was in love with Bucky. Another sigh. Was it worth hoping as much?

He arrived in his apartment complex and made his way to his door. Yet he was distracted by a noise. Moving his head towards the sound, he encountered the source of it, opening his eyes in surprise.

There were you, palm clattering against the dull-coloured wood while your fingers frenetically turned the key. A light blush covered Steve’s cheeks, a warmness spread in his gut. Your feet were confined in low burgundy heels, your body covered in a gabardine, down its hem a dark skirt sticking out. Steve was dumbfounded, as if he had stumbled upon the very same image he was picturing in his fantasies. When he saw the suitcases around you, it hit him: you were the new neighbour his landlord was talking about.

He rested the umbrella on the wall and advanced hesitantly.

“Do you need help, ma’am?”, asked he with a small voice.

“Why, yes, thank you, I’ve been here for a while already and I’m ready to break the-” You turned around and became silent. You were enticed by the bluest irises you had ever seen. Still, it looked like the mysterious, scrawny, blond man didn’t pay any attention to your reaction, already nervous himself.

“It’s a bit tricky, the lock.” He smiled as he took the key from your hand. He felt your soft fingers and his body became lighter and dizzier. Nonetheless, he surprisingly didn’t falter: Steve introduced the key, two twists towards his right side, one towards his left one, a kick in the corner and the door opened with a screeching complain.

“Thank you”, you hastened to say, sliding your suitcases in your new apartment.

“It was nothing.”

You looked at his beautiful eyes, pulse out of control. You could almost see the steam of his hot breath in this cold weather. Extending a friendly hand, you offered him your name before you would forget it, as you were lost in his being.

“I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.” He introduced himself.

“Well, Steve Rogers,” you rolled his name in your tongue with delight, in a sudden whim to pronounce it one hundred times more, “I hope I’ll see you around.”

And like that, all too soon for Steve’s liking, you disappeared behind your door.

“I hope I’ll see you around, too”, he muttered under his breath, looking at the now empty space you had left.

He heard the tapping of your heels, in harmony with the falling raindrops. He was speechless after the encounter, lingering on every gesture you had made and every word you had pronounced. He loved this feeling, being completely charmed by somebody. And as that feeling was melting his bones, he realised it was the same ticking sensation Bucky made appear in his body, the same aching, the same burning in his chest. He couldn’t help but smile, and wish you were his date that night, something that never happened. But he was content with wishing, he had another face to wish for, another pair of lips to long after.

He took the umbrella and opened his own apartment. He got ready, overwhelmed by the previous scene he had lived, overwhelmed by getting to be with Bucky again that night. The date came soon, and the girl who was supposed to be his date went away sooner if it was possible. For once he didn’t mind.

“What’s with you today?”, asked Bucky once he was accompanying him home, a creeping smirk in his demeanour. “You seem happy she left you.”

“You are the one who looks happy she left me”, talked Steve. He didn’t know he had hit a nerve. Bucky gulped, his hands frozen in sweat. He was genuinely scared Steve would realise and it would stop being his dearest secret. Yet Steve never realised, he was too blinded by his friendship, his own love and his own insecurity. “I met the new neighbour”, Steve added casually before his best friend could say anything incriminatory.  

“So?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“My neighbour is… simply beautiful. And nice. Very nice.”

“Careful not to fall in love.” Bucky’s sentence was said way too bitterly, he hoped Steve couldn’t tell why. “It hurts.” He was selfish, yes, but never had he had to share Steve with anyone. He could handle temporary crushes, but love? Steve in love with someone else? How was he to live with that?

‘Only if you knew…’ Steve thought, because he had all his life been in love, and Bucky had never known.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes people are not what they seem, and you need time and a good talk to find it out.

The sun was hiding behind the horizon, the clouds coloured in pastel tones of pink and orange were approaching the darkening sky. You closed your door with a paper bag crushed in your hand and a hesitant weight in your heart. The drumming of your heels was firm, a stark contrast against the softness- some could even name it fear- of your will. A deep breath and a knock faster than any thought so you wouldn’t back off from this.

Ten eternal seconds went by as you were waiting in front of Steve’s apartment. You were questioning yourself. Should you step in? Should you not? You didn’t want to look nosy, yet you were concerned. You had heard he was ill. It was not something new, but you missed the bright smile he shared when you passed each other on your way home, the subtle blush grazing his cheeks, his gentleman-like manners as he helped you with the tricky knob that had locked you out more than once. It had been a year since you knew Steve Grant Rogers and he had you bewitched ever since you met him.

The cracking doorframe shook you out of your thoughts, and you placed on your lips a sweet smile. However, the clear eyes revealed were not the ones you were expecting.

“You”, muttered the dark-haired man with a readable expression: ‘What are _you_ doing here?’

“Barnes. What an unpleasant surprise.” You changed your demeanour.

James Buchanan Barnes didn’t like you, and you simple corresponded his feelings. Steve introduced him to you. You couldn’t remember what you’d said to irritate him, perhaps it was your personality, maybe he couldn’t stand you without a logical reason. Once way or another, bickering was natural when it come to you both, more so when Steve was not there to moderate both of you.

“You are not welcome”, he stated.

“You don’t live here”, you responded with a frown, “and I’m not here to see you. I’m here to see Steve.”

“He can’t have any visits,” Bucky rolled his eyes, “he is ill.”

“ _You_ are visiting.” Your let your eyelids droop.

“Only family allowed.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. He smirked. Actually, he was about to close the door in your face when a muffled voice came from the interior. ‘Let her in’, had said Steve. Bucky huffed and moved aside for you to enter. You plastered your smile again, only to offend him further. You wondered how Steve had heard you, due to his ear problems- maybe you and Bucky were the only ones who knocked on his door regularly- but, either way, you were content with the outcome.

You walked towards his bedroom with a light sensation. You were going to see Steve after a week of absence. However, the sight greeting you sent a shiver down your spine. He was pale, paler than usual. His small frame was trembling subtly. You rushed to stand on the side of his bed, trying to hide your worry yet failing miserably.

“How are you feeling?”, you asked timidly.

“I’ve been worse.” His pained smile, broke your heart. Without thinking, you caressed his hair with your free hand. It felt right, like your fingers were made to tangle his hair, something you’d longed for a long time. He gulped at the gesture, then coughed.

Fortunately, Bucky came in with a glass of water. You didn’t miss his mournful look.

“Just a cold,” the blonde man mumbled, in a way to lighten the mood, “some fever too.”

“How about soup, then?” You were looking at his eyes, barely open. Still, they were precious, as dying stars. He was smiling from ear to ear. It hurt. It was the first time you had seen him like this, the first time his condition seemed real and not a distant tale he used to tell.

“I would love some.”

You ventured to kiss his temple. He leaned into your gentle mouth, closing his eyes. He was warmer than he should have been: fever was rising. You noticed the tender stare Bucky dedicated Steve. It was more than affectionate; it was loving. The opposite of the steely glances he used to share with you. You walked out of his room and took in his home in an attempt to focus and prevent tears you didn’t know were there from falling. It was simple. He had what he needed, and nothing stuck out of the general atmosphere of homeliness. The kitchen was the same as the rest.

“Care helping me cooking?” Your voice was failing you.

“Was that not enough?” He had followed you, talking slow and low. The flare of his anger was clear, in his nose, in his mouth, in his eyes. You turned around, clueless. “Does it entertain you, or what?”

“What in hell are you talking about?” You were careful not to raise your voice.

“Why does Steve interest you so much?”

He caught you unprepared. You opted for the truth, even though he was starting to irritate you. “Because I care. Why else?”

“He has no money.”

“I know.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He just stared at you, look fixed in your own eyes. That was the moment when he saw the dry trail of tears. You rubbed your eyes and turned around, placing the paper bag on the counter and finding in your stupor a saucepan and some vegetables.

You were offended with Bucky. You were outraged with how he could think so low of you, how he had accused you of everything you feared with just a few words. You were outraged with his distrust, mostly because you had expected a friend in him and you had found a shield made of blames and reproaches. Yet you were outraged with the world too, unable to even imagine what these two must have lived for you to have found them in this disposition.

You calmed your heart with memories of Steve’s smile, of Bucky’s smile in the few moments you’d seen it. You told yourself Steve’s best friend had the best intentions, just like you. Why couldn’t you get along? You knew you were jealous, you wanted to be a pillar in Steve’s life too. Unbeknownst to you, another want was reaching your consciousness, you wanted to be liked by Bucky too.

You were jealous, but what did he feel?

“What’s in the bag?” Bucky’s tone was more peaceful, and you relaxed.

Without turning around, while cutting a leek, you answered. “Medicines.”

Bucky crossed the kitchen. He was besides you. Grabbing the pan, he filled it with water and lit the stove. Afterwards, he took a look at the bag.

He felt bad. You had collected all the medicines Steve had needed for a week, plus a few ones for his cold. He had thought what you had claimed was bullshit. It was new to him too, he had thought you were fooling both. No one had ever been so nice to Steve, nor him for that matter, no one outside their little family. But it was not just distrust, what he had piled up against you.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

Just as it hit him, it hit you. He had been jealous of you and Steve.

He continued. “These are expensive.”

“I had an extra.”

“What do you do?” It was nonsense, innocuous chitchat at best. The only option, regarding what Bucky and you harboured in your minds. “I dance.” “Where?” “Depends. What do you do?” “Depends, too.” “I see.” “Steve can’t dance for his life.” “Do you dance?” “Just on dates.” Silence.

“You shouldn’t have…”, he began, then realised how empty his words sounded.

It was your time to ask him what you were rehearsing when you bought them, which looked like an eternity ago. “Don’t tell Steve I did it. Tell him it was you.”

“Why?”

“You know him better than me.” Talking about him, it was delicious. When ‘him’ referred to him, as if ‘him’ had always been meant to be him. It was almost as good as saying his name. “I don’t want him to think… he owes me anything.”

More silence.

“Fine.” He conceded.

The atmosphere was heavy with untold secrets. Meanwhile each of you chopped the few vegetables you could find and added them to the boiling water. Bucky turned out to be a good cook, soft voice filled with suggestions, hands filled with decision. The concoction smelled good and tasted better. Soon enough you were satisfied with the outcome.

You stole a glance towards Bucky. His clear eyes were tired, they were like a grey pond in a dying land. The lines of his face told you he had been awake for too long. You suspected he had been with Steve this whole week, too worried to care for rest, too invested in restoring his fragile health. You were touched by this, and completely forgot all the harsh words you’d share with him. He didn’t seem like a stranger anymore. He had been to you a second character, flat, hostile, but then you saw everything he was and he could grow to be.

He run his hand through his hair. With a deep sigh, he rested against the kitchen counter.

“Listen”, he said, and you wouldn’t think you were listening to someone in his twenties, but someone who had lived way more than he wanted, “I’m sorry I was an asshole all these months.”

You smiled shyly. “I was no better. I said things… I said things.”

“You do have a foul language when you want.” Bucky chuckled, turning around a spatula in his hands.

A deep breath. You weren’t ready, but there were things that had to be said.

“I’m sorry too. I stepped into your world and I wasn’t aware of anything. I’m sorry I disrupted that balance you seemed to have. You obviously were irritated. I’m sorry. But I love him. And I know you love him too.”

He simply nodded, because the weight of your words was crushing his chest.

“Bucky?”

“And?” He was expectant, yet he couldn’t meet your eyes. What was he expecting? Disgust, that is. Rejection, repudiation. All the things he had feared in his life. He was well liked by his family, by his friends, by the girls in his frequent days of dating. Still, who would remain by him if they knew he was in love with Steve? He was scared, scared of pronouncing a wrong word, scared of making a wrong move. He carried that weigh every day of his life. So, what was he expecting? Definitely not acceptance.

“All love is beautiful.” At first, he thought he was hallucinating. His head had made you say what he yearned to hear. But you continued, and with your talk his heart was swelling. “And I’d say he loves you dearly, too.”

“He was right”, Bucky nearly choked on his words. He shook his head. “That little punk.”

“Excuse me? I don’t follow.”

“He said you were a good person. Apparently, he was right. I was quite the fool for not believing.”

“Thank you… I guess.” Your smile was wide. At last you could release the hope that took shelter in you, that hope that wanted the months of bickering to end.

Bucky crossed his arms. His gaze met yours, and you realized your eyes were still blurred. “He is in love with you, he can’t stop talking about you. I guess I was jealous.”

“When he’s with me, he doesn’t stop talking about you. I may have been jealous, too”, you admitted with a laugh.

“What are we going to do with him?”

“I suppose his heart is just big enough to fit us both”, you marvelled out loud. “We should sign an armistice, you and me. He deserves peace.”

“He does.” He chuckled. “Besides, I’m not in a habit of being rude to beautiful ladies. You were quite the exception.”

“The soup is ready.” You said with a giggle, way too satisfied with how everything turned out with Bucky. You felt your pulse beating again cheerful.

You served the soup in a bowl and you brought it to Steve. What you missed in your way to his room was a pair of pupils behind you that, much to his owner’s dismay, had melted suspicion into something else. Even though he’d deny it for weeks to come, the glint in Bucky’s pupils couldn’t be describe as anything but adoring. He followed you, troubled by his feelings, which never were easy.

Steve was asleep. His long lashes were closed, his mouth lightly agape. Bucky shook his shoulder so softly, as if Steve was made of crystal. You put the tray on his lap.

“Did I fell asleep?”, his hoarse voice asked.

“Yes”, answered Bucky.

“We got your soup”, you added.

“Thank you.”

You sat on a chair, while Bucky sat next to Steve in his bed. They made such a touching picture.

Steve took a spoonful of the burning soup and devoured it. “I’d marry you both if I could”, he said as he chewed on a piece of carrot.

Despite Steve being ill, the evening passed in jolliness and cheerfulness. Bucky shared some embarrassing stories of Steve, making him blush beyond the fever. You too talked and talked, until Steve fell asleep again, wondering what could have happened between you and Bucky to be so lively. Not that he complained, not that he didn’t sleep with a smile in his face.


End file.
